in your restaurant tough times It is impossible to have a fluent conversation. Passing through the always-open door every few minutes, a African woman dressed in her elegance and interrupts dialogue with overwhelming self-confidence. “Sister, how are you? Did you go out today?” they hug each other. dir-dir Sunday. For many of these women, these are the only free hours of the week. It is a priceless treasure. In the remaining days, Working in Lebanese homes where they cook, clean, shop, and care for the whole family, in many cases with nothing in return. “When I was contracted as a domestic worker, they never let us out”, Haddy comments to Senegalese godmother Aisha, who has been in Lebanon for 25 years. “It is also true that there were no such places where can we find us”, she admits with relief.
Music by African artists dominates the street giving access to the streets. Haddy’s Afro House. in the Armenian quarter Bourj Hammoudoutside Beirut, happy songs loudly silence the laughter of a group of friends happy to have each other. After crossing the threshold surrounded by plastic flowers, they sit and order a glass of wine. Between Gambia flags and portraits of African landscapes, comment on the latest news from their community. Meanwhile, with three weeks to deadline, Haddy’s microwave ovens and cameroon stew. A Kenyan soup is boiling on the stove. The cook sits down despite the pots and plates piled up in the sink and recommends the most trusted office for young women to send savings to their hometown of Gambia. The office where the money is known to actually come and not lost along the way.
His story is extraordinary. are very little migrant workers who managed to escape from the domestic sphere and remained in Lebanon. Ndure is married to a Lebanese man and this allowed her to open her own business. “I never thought I would my own restaurant “After remembering her first home-study experience she came to in 2016, in an Arab country,” he explains. Latest figures confirm that cedar country still welcomes some 250,000 domestic migrant workers, the majority are women and from African and Asian countries. Despite the severe economic crisis in Lebanon, families continue to put them through bad conditions. system head oncrossed out “modern slavery” by various organisations. “Working for someone is really stressful, different from working for yourself,” Haddy celebrates.
“In Senegal for a few hours”
Ayse Year He spent almost the same number of years in Lebanon. native Senegal. “I’m acting like Haddy’s older sister,” she explains to this newspaper. Watching her run around the kitchen, she complains: We can’t stop working and do like Lebanese women who stay at home. months before birth”. “We have no choice but to work until the last minute,” she exclaims. As he speaks, he places the beads one after another on a transparent thread and closes it with a small shell. “The material is all from Africa, so I sell these bracelets to the girls to make some money and they earn too. feel more at home” he says as he distributes them to young women.
This 51-year-old Senegalese has a beauty centre. Africans and Lebanese – “I don’t discriminate by nationality” she says – leave their hair and faces in Aisha’s hands. “People leave my house happyIt’s like being in Senegal for a few hours,” she says, then laughingly proclaiming “Mother Africa.” “It’s very important to have places like this to meet because if we don’t we help each otherLebanese women don’t do that,” Aisha explains in fluent Arabic. In a country where three quarters of the population is below the poverty line, they are one of the most forgotten groups. racism and discrimination.
a common language
A common language is shared through hairstyles, clothing or food. Somehow, in these women-run places who know firsthand the suffering of their clients, it’s the closest thing to pain. comfort. “This place reminds you of you home in africa”He says proudly. “They love it so much that when they finish eating, we all dance; when you come from the inside”, this is how they express being inside a house, “you never go out to dance because you are always working”. The tired-faced expectant mother, who passed by the restaurant until two in the morning on Saturday night, seems content.
“For us, meet africans [en el Líbano] It is not easy and it is very difficult to find a place like this where people can come and have fun. something extraordinary”, Ndure concludes. Even on Sunday, silence does not cover this mostly Christian neighborhood. Domestic workers take advantage of free time to get as close to home as possible. They entrust their hair, appearance and stomach. citizens of africa inspiring them to dream of a life that exists outside someone else’s home.